


Wild Things

by ProfessionalMess



Series: song fics [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Cute gay shit, Depressed Phil Lester, M/M, mentions of depression, mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 12:32:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12887934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessionalMess/pseuds/ProfessionalMess
Summary: "You don't look like you're having very much fun," the voice observed, tickling Phil's ear as whoever was behind him spoke."How can you tell?" Phil questioned, silently cursing Pj for this interaction. This person was probably going to kill him, or even worse, beat him up, and Pj wasn't even here to stop it."Oh, a couple of ways. For one, you're sitting here in the tightest ball you can possibly get your body in without being in the actual fetal position, wearing the biggest frown I've ever seen on anyone. And, secondly, the band that everyone else is here to see just came on stage, and you're staring at an ant." the voice supplied smoothly.





	Wild Things

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome to another mess 
> 
> this was inspired by the song wild things by coast modern, so listen, if you want ??
> 
> https://youtu.be/Am_53ZF28Xc

Phil didn't leave his apartment a whole lot.

There wasn't really any point.

His roommate Pj always picked up groceries and things he needed anyway, because he was already out all day, so Phil had all the time in the world to mope around his small flat and stare at the ceiling.

Phil used to complain about living with Pj, because he was too sad and too stubborn and wanted to be able to cry in the darkness of his room without someone wondering about it, but ever since Phil got too drunk and tried to saw off his hand with a kitchen knife, they were both silently thankful for the arrangement.

Pj was always griping at Phil, telling him to get off the floor and open the curtains, or eat something (besides dry cereal), or stop laying in the floor of the shower and wasting water. But Phil knew that if Pj didn't say anything, no one would, and he would die before he was thirty, so he always gave Pj a small, grateful smile and tried at some degree to do what he asked, even if it never lasted very long.

Pj always invited Phil to go out with him, either all day or all night, but Phil always politely declined. Taking care of himself in the confines of his own home was one thing (and hard enough at that), but facing the general public and going outside was too much for Phil to even think about. He rarely even stepped onto his balcony (which Pj had plenty to say about, because sunlight is apparently essential for your survival), let alone the untamed city streets surrounding him.

Now that it was summer, Pj would disappear for days at a time, always at some festival or concert with his boyfriend, Chris. Phil tried his hardest to keep up with taking care of himself while he was gone, but occasionally, the days would slip by without Phil noticing, and Pj would be back from a three day trip and Phil would have to lie about all the things he had done, since he hadn't really even moved from his spot.

Today, however, Pj was not taking any of Phil's shit. He was, instead, taking him to a concert. Outside. With millions of other people (Pj said there wouldn't be  _millions_ of people, but how could he know?).

Phil was almost positive he was going to die.

Finally.

Pj, unfortunately, did not seem to be worried about it (causing Phil to rethink their entire friendship), and his threats did not deter Pj from his mission, so Phil ended up with his ass in the grass in front of a giant stage, with far too many (it  _looked_  like millions) people surrounding him.

"Pj," Phil stated, his voice surprisingly calm. "I want to go home."

"Phil," Pj answered, his voice hardened by an edge that Phil was familiar with. "You can't." Phil sighed, already giving up, because he knew Pj was right. In order for Phil to get home, he would have to either get a ride or walk. He didn't have any friends with cars, he didn't have any money for a cab, and even if he walked, Pj had taken his house keys, so he would have to stand outside until Pj returned home anyway.

This did not mean Phil was happy. In fact, he was already planning how to get Pj back for this. He would probably never follow through, because Pj was only doing this for his well being, but it gave Phil gratification to think about, so he thought about it anyway.

Phil sat there, trying to avoid shitting his pants, until Pj and Chris climbed to their feet on either side of him and announced their leaving, and Phil feared that he had.

"What do you mean,  _leaving_?" Phil yelped, tilting his head back to glare up at them.

"Relax," Chris laughed, patting his head. "We're just gonna go buy some food. We'll be right back." And with that, they were gone, leaving Phil bewildered in the grass, wondering why he couldn't come with them.

"Bastards," he mumbled, pinching a blade of grass between his fingers as glanced around him, gulping at the volume and the proximity of the fellow concert goers, wishing more than anything that he could be laying on his kitchen floor instead. He rather liked that floor.

As if Pj hadn't already ruined his night, now Phil had to sit here,  _alone_ , until they came back with food that they probably wouldn't even share with him, because they apparently lived their lives to take a merry shit on Phil's.

And so, Phil sat, meticulously watching an ant venture through the tall blades of grass, until a voice sounded right next to his ear.

"You don't look like you're having very much fun," the voice observed, tickling Phil's ear as whoever was behind him spoke.

"How can you tell?" Phil questioned, silently cursing Pj for this interaction. This person was probably going to kill him, or even worse, beat him up, and Pj wasn't even here to stop it.

"Oh, a couple of ways. For one, you're sitting here in the tightest ball you can possibly get your body in without being in the actual fetal position, wearing the biggest frown I've ever seen on anyone. And, secondly, the band that everyone else is here to see just came on stage, and you're staring at an ant." the voice supplied smoothly.

Phil whipped his head up and, sure enough, several people were prancing around on stage, wielding instruments and shrill voices that Phil had somehow failed to notice beforehand.

"Well," Phil sniffed, returning his attention to his ant friend, who had made such incredible progress (Phil was proud). "You would be correct in your observations. I do not want to be here." With this, Phil thought the man with the light voice would leave him alone, confident in his deduction skills and his successful interaction. Instead, the man threw an intrusive arm around Phil's shoulders and leaned into his line of sight, flashing him a toothy grin.

"As luck would have it," the man began, his curly, curly hair falling in his face the farther he leaned. "I don't want to be here, either. What do you say we be not-here, together?"

Phil was appalled.

Was this how all social interactions went? Phil didn't remember how he had met or become friends with Pj, but he was sure this wasn't it.

Speaking of Pj, why wasn't he back yet? Phil desperately needed him to help get out of this situation.

Phil scanned the crowd in front of him, barely suppressing a sigh when he couldn't see Pj or Chris, letting his eyes shift back to the weird man practically in his lap once he realized he'd have to get through this on his own.

Phil was about to decline the man's strange but kind offer when he stopped to think about what he'd be forced to suffer if he did. Not only would he have to sit through the stupid concert and try not to die once it ended and everyone left at once, but Pj would also somehow find out about Phil's failed interaction with this man and be disappointed, giving up all hope that Phil could ever function with other people.

Phil shuddered at the thought and promptly made eye contact with the man hanging from his shoulders, deciding that, with any luck, this man would kill him and Phil wouldn't have to stress anymore.

"I guess that wouldn't be so bad," Phil allowed, blushing as the man's face lit up. "How do I know you're not gonna do something bad to me?"

"You'll just have to trust me," the man replied, scooting around Phil until he was sitting in front of him. "I'm Dan."

Dan held out his hand and Phil took it, tentatively, and gave it the weakest shake he could manage. A smile broke out across Dan's face at the gesture, and Phil found himself liking it far too much.

"Phil." Phil said as Dan dropped his hand. Dan was probably the most attractive person Phil had ever seen, but Phil hadn't really seen that many people, so he decided that this was unimportant.

Dan's hair sat curly atop his head, reminding Phil of a halo.

Dan himself reminded Phil of the moon, with his creamy complexion and his twinkling eyes. Those eyes raked themselves over Phil before Dan's hand was being thrown in his face once again, indicating that Dan wanted Phil to grab it. As soon as Dan had a decent grip on Phil's hand he was pulling them up, leading them through the crowd with vigor, zigzagging through the masses with a grace that Phil would never master.

Before he knew it, Phil was sitting in the passengers side of Dan's car, and every single window was open and funneling wind into Phil's face and hair as Dan drove down the street.

Dan had the radio up loud, and whatever song was playing caught Phil's attention. He listened as they went, an unfamiliar feeling bubbling up in his chest that he was trying very hard to memorize and remember. The music and the wind and the sound of Dan very softly singing along made Phil feel like he was going to cry, and he was a little bit confused, because he normally didn't cry for good reasons or in front of other people, so he refused to let the tears fall, letting the force of the wind numb his face and cool him off instead.

Phil felt more alive than he ever had, and he didn't quite know what to do with it.

Eventually, he stuck his hand out the window and let it float on the breeze, liking the way his skin felt as the night air melted over it.

As soon as Dan stopped the car, Phil was whipping his head in his direction, staring him down.

"Did you drug me?" Phil demanded. He didn't know when this realistically would have happened, but it was the only explanation he had. He decided that, if Dan  _had_  drugged him, he didn't really mind. He just wanted to know. Dan laughed, throwing his head back.

"No," he giggled, pushing his door open and getting out. "Why do you ask?"

"I've just never felt like this before." Phil mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. Dan swooped in and opened Phil's door for him, even going so far as to unbuckle his seat belt and guide it off of him when Phil made no move to do it himself.

"You're telling me you've never gone cruising before?" Dan asked, surprised.

"I don't have a car," Phil informed him, scuffing his feet as he followed Dan towards a darkened building. "Where are we? And, more importantly, what are we doing here?"

"We are at my place of employment, and we're here to get blackout drunk and eat candy." Phil gulped nervously and slowed his pace even more, glancing at Dan's back through his eyelashes.

"Drunk?" With this, Dan turned around, laughing when he saw Phil's face.

"Let me guess," he laughed. "You've never gotten drunk, either?" Phil shook his head, a blush invading his face.

"No, no, I have." Dan scanned his face then, and his features softened.

"We don't have to get drunk if you don't want to. Candy's just as good sober." Dan said, shooting Phil a reassuring smile, obviously having noticed Phil's discomfort. Phil hadn't gotten drunk in a long time, partly because he didn't want to and partly because of what he attempted the last time. But, surely, there weren't any knives in a candy shop, and Dan would help keep him safe. Who knows, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if Dan  _didn'_ t keep him safe.

* * *

Phil forgot that he was a sad drunk. He should have remembered, considering he was a sad everything else, too.

But, it was too late now.

Phil laid on the floor of the shop, silent tears streaming down his face as he gnawed on a chocolate bar. Dan had disappeared amongst the aisles several minutes ago, mumbling something about locating "sex in candy form" while Phil continued to lay and eat and cry.

The real kicker was, Phil had no idea why he was crying.

Dan had asked, only once, and Phil had no idea what to say, so he told him that, and Dan quickly accepted that as his answer, seeming to understand that tears don't always come for a reason. Phil hated the fact that he was crying in front of Dan, a near stranger, but he was too drunk to slow down his thoughts and stop crying now that he had started, so the least he could do was embrace it.

Dan didn't seem to mind that Phil was crying, so Phil tried not to mind either.

Phil hiccuped in surprise when Dan shouted, reappearing at Phil's feet with a red, rectangular package in his hand.

"I found it!" Dan grinned adorably, dropping to his ass next to Phil in a way that looked painful and tearing open the package. After fishing what looked like a ball of chocolate out of the bag, Dan held it out to Phil. Too tired and too drunk to think, Phil simply opened his mouth for Dan to feed him. Dan grinned again and dropped it into his mouth, popping another one into his own mouth while Phil chewed.

Phil reopened his mouth and Dan fed him another, but his fingers were closer to his lips this time and Phil reached out to suck on them, accepting the candy onto his tongue. Dan's fingers tasted like crystallized sugar and were rough against his tongue, and Phil had to stop himself from pouting when Dan finally withdrew them.

Dan used Phil's saliva on his fingers to pick up the fallen sugar from the wrappers of other treats, bringing them back to Phil's mouth as Phil hummed in approval.

Dan kept his fingers in Phil's mouth far longer than the sugar lasted, and Phil twirled his tongue around the digits far more sexually than the situation called for, and when Phil's jaw was too tired to keep going any longer, Dan leaned himself up against a table and pulled Phil's head into his lap, using his clean hand to run his fingers over Phil's face in a curious manner.

"You know what I'm a slut for?" Phil asked, staring at Dan's face upside down.

"No, what?"

"Sour Skittles. I like eating a lot of them and letting the citric acid destroy the skin on the inside of my cheeks and ruin my taste buds. I even lose my sense of taste, sometimes," Phil momentarily wondered if this was something he should share with anyone, especially someone he had just met, but he decided he didn't care. He didn't even seem to be able to scare Dan off at this point.

"WarHeads will do it faster," Dan informed him.

"I've never had one." Phil frowned, upset he didn't know about them sooner.

Dan lifted up Phil's head and slipped out from underneath him, disappearing into the aisles again in search of what Phil assumed was WarHeads.

Dan returned and tossed a bag on Phil's chest, sitting back down and plopping Phil's head back onto his legs. Phil ripped open the package and pulled out a candy, letting his eyes flick over the additional layer of packaging.

"What flavor did you get?" Dan asked, ripping open his own.

"Blue raspberry," Phil told him, putting the candy in his mouth. The sour was intense and immediate, but didn't last long, and Phil found himself spitting out what was left in favor of the initial sour coating.

"I was wrong," Dan frowned, reading the ingredients list. "It's actually  _malic_ acid in the sour coating, the citric acid is in the rest of the candy."

"Same difference," Phil said, trying to force the sour look off his face. "As long as it wrecks my mouth, I'm happy."

Dan and Phil sat in silence then, having sour face-offs and showing each other their multicolored tongues as they giggled and tried not to choke (this was mostly Phil, since he was laying down). Then, they switched to Sour Skittles, until Phil couldn't feel his mouth and didn't think he could shove anything else down his throat.

"I heard you singing in the car earlier," Phil mumbled, reaching up to swipe at the now uncomfortable tears that had dried on his face.

"Oh?" Dan asked slowly, twirling Phil's hair between his fingers.

"Yeah. It was nice. Will you sing for me?" Phil requested, batting his eyelashes at Dan sleepily.

"I don't normally sing for people. And, I can't feel my mouth. I might choke on sloughing skin," Dan stated, raising his eyebrows at the man on his lap. Phil wrinkled his nose at Dan's choice of words, sticking his sore tongue out at him.

"I cried in front of you, so it's only fair that you sing. And, as far as  _sloughing skin_ goes, I guess you'll just have to be careful. Now, sing for me, pretty boy." And so Dan sang, and Phil started crying again, but he knew why this time (although he still didn't tell Dan when he asked), and he was happy and content and didn't even notice when he fell asleep.

And when Dan got in trouble at work the next day, he didn't even mind, because he had made plans with Phil later that day, and he was so excited he couldn't see straight.

* * *

"Philip Lester!" Pj yelled as Phil entered the apartment. He was lucky it was unlocked, because he wasn't sure he had the energy to effectively knock on the door. Phil wasn't sure what time he had fallen asleep last night but he knew it was late, and when he had woken up in Dan's warm arms and didn't feel like moping around all day, Phil tried to revel in the moment for as long as he could.

He still had a killer headache, though.

And his mouth  _hurt_.

Phil frowned when he saw Pj's tired face, and his frown deepened when he saw that Chris's face matched, indicating that he had kept them both up. Shit.

"Where the  _fuck_ have you been?" Pj demanded, standing from the couch. Phil winced, holding his head.

Phil still felt bad about making Pj worry and hurting him, even though Pj was the one hurting Phil with all this yelling he was doing.

"Pj, I feel very bad about the events of last night and making you worry about me, but I'm  _really_ gonna need you to stop yelling." Phil rasped, leaning against the wall. It took Pj a second to understand why, but once he did, Phil almost wished he hadn't have said anything.

"You got  _drunk_?!" Pj roared, his eyes wide. "What on  _earth_ were you thinking?" Phil slid to the floor, his head pounding.

"Pj," he groaned. "I'll explain everything, I promise, I just need you to  _stop. Yelling_." Chris got up from the couch and retrieved water and medicine for Phil, who gulped it down quickly and lay on the floor, covering his eyes with his arm and panting. Pj had returned to the couch with Chris and was looking at Phil with softer features, willing to listen and quiet down this time.

"Long story short," Phil began, closing his eyes as a small smile graced his lips. "I left the concert with a complete stranger who had the  _audacity_ to claim that I wasn't having any fun and should come with him instead, and he took me cruising in his car and we ended up at his work, eating candy and getting drunk in the floor. I cried in front of him and he fed me chocolate, and then we destroyed our mouths with far too many sour candies and he sang until I fell asleep. The singing and the crying was a trade off, sort of thing." As Phil explained it, it didn't sound nearly as fun as it had been, mostly because Phil hadn't taken the time to explain Dan and his charm, or how understanding and easy going Dan had been, or the way the night had made him feel.

"It was fun," Phil murmured, opening his eyes to smile at Pj. Pj shook his head, his own smile finding its way onto his face before it disappeared just as quick.

"I thought something bad had happened to you when we got home and you weren't waiting at the door. I figured you had walked home and were just waiting here; I felt nothing but  _panic_ when you weren't." Pj told him, rubbing his hands over his face.

"I'm sorry, Pj. I should've texted." Phil said, climbing to his feet and plopping himself across both Chris and Pj's laps.

"I'm just glad you're not dead," Pj mumbled, playing with Phil's hair in a way that reminded him of Dan.

"We have plans to hangout later," Phil grinned, knowing Pj would be impressed.

"Ha!" Chris shouted, slapping Pj's shoulder. "I told you. You owe me twenty bucks."

"You guys bet on me? What? When?" Phil sputtered, staring at them with wide eyes. Pj sighed, slapping a twenty into Chris's awaiting palm before answering Phil's questions.

"Last week, Chris apparently had a "premonition" that you would make a new friend before our one year anniversary," Pj mumbled, ignoring Phil's glare and shooting his own at Chris.

"How do you know we're friends?" Phil pouted. At that, both Chris and Pj turned their attention to him, raising their eyebrows in scary unison. "Fine," Phil muttered, sitting up.

"So, when do we get to meet this new friend?" Pj asked, grinning at Phil as he froze.

"Probably never," Phil huffed, getting up from the couch all together. "I'm gonna go take a nap."

* * *

"You're late!" Dan sang with a grin as Phil stepped through his front door. "By a whole hour, in case you were wondering." Dan didn't seem upset by this fact, more amused, but it still made Phil blush.

"I fell asleep, okay?" Phil defended, glancing around him as Dan lead him through his apartment. Dan's apartment was a weird mix of clean and messy, with lots of things littering every flat surface but arranged with purpose, screaming so much information about Dan that Phil felt like he was swimming through air.

"I like your apartment." Phil informed him, pausing behind Dan as he wrestled with his balcony door. Finally, it slid open, and Dan pushed Phil into a chair before disappearing back into the house and around the corner.

"Thank you!" Dan called, his voice light. "I have a bit of an expression problem. I'm always looking for things to capture feelings, and keeping them until I can't remember why I got them in the first place. It's a wild cycle, keeps me on my toes." By this time, Dan had returned, carrying two drinks in his hand.

"Are you trying to get me drunk again?" Phil questioned, eyeing the drinks in Dan's hands and then Dan himself.

"Nope," Dan answered, popping the "p". "Just a little tipsy. Alcohol makes every new friendship less awkward." 

"What is it?" Phil asked, giving it a sniff.

"It's a Philcolada." Dan said with a wink, sitting down in a chair opposite of Phil.

"What's in it?"

"I don't remember, I made it an hour ago." Dan shrugged, taking a drink. "Don't worry, I didn't drug it."

"That's exactly what someone who drugged it would say." Phil sniffed, bringing the drink to his lips. "It tastes like coconut." Dan hummed in agreement, taking another drink.

"Why'd you name it Philcolada? No, actually, why'd you name it?"

Dan shrugged with a smile. "I made it because it reminds me of you, like I said, expression problem, and every great invention should have a name. Why not name it after the inspiration?"

"How can it remind me of you? You don't know anything about me," Phil reasoned, continuing to take small sips. He had to admit, it was good.

"I know enough about you to make a drink in your honor, I think that counts for something. Besides, the alcohol is gonna help with that problem, remember?" Dan grinned, wiggling his eyebrows at Phil. Phil struggled to remember a time when Dan  _wasn't_  grinning, the bastard. His smile was basically a drug.

"I can't tell if it's a good thing or a bad thing that I remind you of mixed drinks," Phil stated, raising his eyebrows.

"Just the one, really. But, actually, you remind me the most of shattered glass," Dan told him, slurping down more of his drink. Phil raised his eyebrows again, his eyes flitting across Dan's face.

"Oh?"

"Yup," Dan grinned. "Sharp, pretty, and mesmerizing, but still a fucking mess." Phil choked on his drink, coughing and sputtering as Dan cackled across from him.

"Okay, that was  _good_ ," Phil coughed, still trying to stabilize his breathing, somehow impressed even though he was being insulted. Dan just grinned, looking extremely proud of himself.

"Do you know what you remind me of?" Phil asked once he had recovered.

"No, what?"

Phil thought for a minute before coming up with his answer (he should have had an answer before he asked the question, as now he was sat here trying to put the aura of Dan into words), hoping it still made sense once he said it out loud.

"You know when it's the middle of the day, and you look up at the sky and you can see the moon? And you pay more attention to it than you would on any other day, because seeing the moon in the same time and place as the sun is special? It's something pretty, in the wrong place at the wrong time, drawing the attention of those observant enough to catch it, and messing with what we think we know to be true. That's what you remind me of. Moonrise on a sunny day."

Dan sat in silence for a minute, sipping his drink as he mulled over what Phil said.

"You know," Dan spoke finally, making eye contact with him that had Phil immediately blushing, giving him the shyest smile Phil had ever seen. "I think that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

Seven Philcoladas and introductory conversations later, Phil was leaning against the sliding glass door with Dan in his arms, leaning against his chest, sipping summer through a straw (Phil decided that that's what the Philcoladas tasted like; summer). Phil's legs were on either side of Dan, his arms circled around his middle, with Dan's head was resting against Phil's shoulder, his eyes lightly shut. Phil was very tempted to place a kiss on the expanse of Dan's neck that was exposed to him, but he wasn't convinced that he could hold his head up long enough to do it.

"Are we gonna get drunk every time we hang out?" Phil wondered aloud, resting his head against the surface behind him.

"Maybe," Dan answered lazily, his thumb making small circles on Phil's leg where it rested, drawing Phil's constant attention, even though he tried to avoid showing any outward reaction. Phil didn't open his eyes as Dan's hand left his leg and moved to his wrist, flipping it over to reveal the jagged scar running horizontally across it. Phil felt Dan's fingertips brush across his skin, more gentle than Phil thought possible, and Dan's hair tickled Phil's cheek as he moved his face towards Phil's, staring at him even though Phil's eyes weren't open.

"What happened?" Dan mumbled, referring to his scar. Phil didn't answer for awhile, trying to figure out how to word his explanation. Dan's fingers kept brushing along the skin, sending shivers down Phil's spine.

"I haven't been and- am not- the happiest person," Phil began, taking a deep breath. "And I've never really known why. I haven't been diagnosed with anything, I haven't even really tried to explain it to anyone, because I've always just felt kind of empty, and a lot of people don't understand that." Phil paused, taking another deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart that surely Dan could feel.

"One night, I thought that alcohol might help me feel something, might allow my emotions to be uninhibited and finally fucking  _show up_ , so I got drunk. Really, incredibly, stupidly drunk. Getting drunk didn't help, made it worse, actually, because the emptiness was only amplified, and it felt like it was eating me from the inside out. It was like I could feel it burning through my veins, taking me with it. So, I got the bright idea to release it, let it go. Give it somewhere else to be, other than inside of me. It was, I guess, a good idea in _theory_ , but in order to accomplish this, it needed an exit, and my drunken brain thought the best way to release this emptiness was to  _cut off my hand_. Brilliant idea, right? So, away I went, attempting to saw off  _my own hand_  with a blunt kitchen knife, just to get rid of the stupid fucking  _lack of feeling_  that I had. I'm almost positive I wouldn't have ever gotten through the bone with that knife and actually accomplished my goal, but, if it hadn't have been for my roommate, I would have sat there all night trying." Dan was quiet, still running the pads of his fingers over Phil's skin, up and down his arm, so gently that Phil almost couldn't feel it.

"Did you cry?"

"Cried, screamed, mumbled, sobbed hysterically, probably kept the whole neighborhood up."

"Did it hurt?"

"Yes."

"Does it hurt now?" Dan momentarily pulled his fingers away, waiting for Phil's answer. Phil smiled.

"No," Phil assured him, relaxing when Dan's fingers returned. Dan paused, contemplating his next question as Phil waited.

"Did the emptiness ever go away?" Dan asked finally.

"I think some of it spilled with my blood, as it's never been quite as bad since, but ultimately, no." Phil answered, his grip on Dan's torso tightening. Dan was quiet again, his breath washing against Phil's cheek as they sat. Phil had never felt so relaxed before, and his head felt foggy because of it. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

"Can you feel it right now?" Dan murmured, pulling Phil's arms tighter around him.

Phil was silent, reaching inside of him for the thing that was always there. The only constant he ever had. But, even as Phil searched and searched, he couldn't sift through the warm feeling in his gut, or the foggy haze in his head, or the tightness in his chest. He couldn't find the one thing he had never had to look for, and he didn't know how to feel about it. So, while Phil had the chance to tell the truth the one time he knew it was safe to do so, he thought he probably should.

"No. I can't."

* * *

Dan and Phil had now been friends for two months, and at this point Chris and Pj were dying to meet him, so it seemed only fair when Pj and Chris returned home to find them sprawled on the living room floor, both of them side by side and spread on their backs like starfish, with their eyes closed and their fingertips just barely touching. As they watched, Dan's hand shot up in the air, displaying four fingers.

"I'm ready." Dan mumbled, shifting closer to Phil so their fingers could interlock. They laid like that for a good solid minute before Phil spoke up, seeming hesitant.

"...Four?"

"Yes!" Dan shouted, dropping his hand back to his chest. "That's three out of four correct, we're definitely psychic." Chris and Pj shared a look before Pj stepped forward and cleared his throat, causing both Dan and Phil to jump, but not otherwise react.

"Can I ask what you're doing?" Pj smirked, running his eyes over the scene before him.

"We've officially been friends for two months, today, so we're testing our psychic link." Phil answered as he pulled his hand from Dan's, scooting away again so their fingertips could brush. Dan was still for a second before he hand shot up again, this time displaying a single finger.

"Ready." Dan announced, shifting towards Phil and grabbing his hand. "Come on, Philly. You got this." Pj and Chris watched as Phil's face scrunched with concentration, his tongue poking out of his mouth.

"I'm offended," Pj huffed. "You never tested  _our_ psychic link."

"Ours, either," Chris added.

"Shh!" Dan hissed as Phil grunted.

"We have to start over." Phil stated, opening his eyes to glare at Pj. Dan scooted himself the appropriate distance away from Phil as he reclosed his eyes, his hand shooting up with two fingers aloft.

"Ready."

The room was tense and quiet as Phil focused, breathing deeply as he did.

"...Three," Phil said, peeling an eye open to look. "Fuck."

"That's still a kind of impressive success rate." Dan pointed out, opening his eyes as well.

"I blame Pj and Chris." Phil muttered. "What are you guys doing here, anyway?"

"Am I not allowed to be in my own apartment?" Pj questioned as Dan and Phil sat up from the floor and leaned against the couch, and him and Chris moved farther into the room.

Phil stuck his tongue out at Pj, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I thought you were going to an art convention thing."

"It was cancelled," Chris shrugged. "Why, are we ruining any plans?" He shot Phil a cheeky smirk, which was met with a glare and a prominent blush.

"No."

"Good," Pj clapped, smiling at Dan. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" Phil sighed but was unable to keep the smile off his face as he waved his hand towards Chris and Pj in turn, introducing them to Dan.

"Dan, this is Pj, my roommate and personal cheerleader, and his boyfriend, Chris, who might as well be my other roommate/cheerleader, considering he never leaves. Cheerleader One and Two, this is Dan, my personal antidepressant." Phil said with a grin, watching Dan flash them his winning smile and shake both of their hands from his spot next to Phil on the floor.

"Hi, Dan," Chris said, winking at him. "Phil literally never shuts up about you."

"I concur," Pj added. "Never." Dan's blush went surprisingly well with his grin, and Phil felt somehow cheated that he had never seen it before.

"Let's play Mario Kart." Phil suggested suddenly, excited to see the competitive nature of all of his friends clash.

And so they played, and they yelled, and they cursed, and Phil had never felt more at home than he did surrounded by these three people. Three people who didn't comment when Phil ended up in Dan's lap, who didn't complain when Phil fell asleep with his body crushing Dan's, who didn't think anything of it when Phil sleepily refused to be moved and clung to Dan's torso all the way to his bed (and then threw a fucking  _fit_  when Dan tried to leave). Three people who supported and cherished Phil, and would always be there when Phil needed them to be. If Phil wasn't so damn tired, he would be grateful.

_And I could hope that this would never change,_

_but I would miss the simple things taking place._

_And I could pray that you'd stay by my side,_

_but wild things go only where the wind decides._

* * *

Dan and Phil had now (officially!) been friends for four months, and Dan had been fully accepted into the group, spending as much time at Phil and Pj's apartment as Chris did. Dan really only left to go to work, and sometimes they stayed at Dan or Chris's apartment, but Pj and Phil's ended up being the unofficial meeting place, understandably.

Every month that Dan and Phil had been friends, Phil went shopping with Dan and helped him pick out something that captured the vibes of their friendship that month, and took it to Dan's apartment to add to the collection, on a special shelf that Dan had cleared off for the two of them.

Month number one was represented by a decorative six pack of beer, since they got drunk together  _a lot_  that month. Number two was represented by a full size gay pride flag with an 'awkward face' emoji patch sewn in the corner, because of drunk Phil and his tendency to overshare (in this case, the escapades of secretly-gay Phil), and not being drunk enough to not remember what had been shared (it was during this month that Phil was positively reassured that Dan wasn't going anywhere).

Number three was represented by a stuffed squirrel, inspired by the fact that Phil had dragged Dan (and occasionally Chris and Pj) to every zoo in the state, and then returned home, only to be attacked by a squirrel the next day (they thought it was ironic and really fucking uncanny). And most recently, month number four was represented by a ukulele that Phil painted, after they made each other (quite lengthy) mix tapes and Phil discovered his natural affinity for drawing and art.

They had just dropped the ukulele off at Dan's flat and were making their way to Phil's when it began to rain, and looked like a storm was rolling in.

"You're spending the night," Phil said as he grabbed Dan's hand and started to run, trying not to slip and fall and die before he got there.

* * *

"Let's play a game," Chris suggested suddenly, breaking up the silence. Since Dan and Phil had arrived at the door, soaked and struggling to breathe, the four of them had mostly been laying in the cloudy darkness of the living room, listening to the rain outside, with Pj in the armchair and Chris on his lap, and Dan sprawled across the couch with Phil on his chest.

"What game?" Dan questioned, his fingers running up and down Phil's back slowly, over and over again.

"I don't know, it's rainy. Let's do something sappy and sentimental." The room returned to silence as someone tried to think of a game that fit the description, the rain threatening to lull them to sleep.

"We could just play Truth or Double Truth," Pj suggested.

"Does that require moving?" Phil mumbled into Dan's shirt.

"No," Chris answered.

"Then let's do it."

"I'll go first," Chris offered quickly. "Dan, truth or double truth?"

"Truth,"

"Say one nice thing about everyone in the room. Remember, it has to be as sappy and sentimental as humanly possible. If I'm not gagging, it's not good enough." Chris said, the grin evident in his voice. Dan snorted but quieted down, taking a second to think about what he was gonna say.

"Pj, I admire your ability to put others before yourself but still be fucking awesome and enjoy life; Chris, I like your sense of humor and approach to problem solving; and Phil, I like how you've casually become the light of my life and don't even realize it." Dan listed off, immediately continuing the game so no one had time to react to what he said. "Pj, truth or double truth?"

"Um, double truth," Pj said slowly.

"Number one, tell each person in this room something that you really want them to know, and number two, list your favorite feature about each person."

Pj was silent for a few seconds, likely thinking, so the rain filled the empty space, pounding against the roof and the balcony and the earth far below, emitting a relaxing drum of persistent noise.

"Okay, I'm ready." Pj announced, clearing his throat. "Um, Phil. I'm really  _really_ glad that you're alive, and I really like your laugh, you know, when your tongue does the pokey thing? Chris, I get really happy when I think about spending the rest of my life with you, and I'm excited for the chance to do it. I really like the conversations that we have, because you're good at keeping them interesting, and breeching subjects I would've never otherwise considered. Dan, I'm really grateful that you're here to take care of Phil and make him happy, because I've never seen him so content with life before, and it gives me hope. And, I'm quite fond of your fucking  _smile_ , like, I've literally never seen anything like it. Um, Chris, truth or double truth?"

Phil thought it was funny how everyone was hurriedly skipping over the reaction portion of what they were saying, progressing the game as if they weren't saying incredibly sentimental things to each other in the dark.

"Truth," Chris chose.

"What's your favorite memory with each person?"

"For Pj, it's the first time we kissed, for Phil, it's the time Pj left us alone together and Phil told me a bunch of stories about him, and for Dan, it's the first time we met, with the psychic link thing a couple months ago. Phil, truth or double truth?"

"Double truth," Phil had decided awhile ago, so he answered immediately.

"Thank each person for something they've done, and describe their impact on your life as a  _simile_  or a  _metaphor_ , just to make things difficult." Chris giggled, causing Pj to shoot him an unimpressed look, and Dan and Phil to snort in unison.

"Okay,  _fine_ , but you have to give me time to think."

Phil was quiet for a long time, trying to narrow his options down and come up with fucking  _metaphors_. Phil didn't express it enough, but he was thankful for so many things that had been done for him, and he was tearing up just thinking of them all.

"Um," Phil began, taking a breath. "Chris, I would like to thank you for being there for Pj, and being a source of hope and encouragement for me whenever I need it. You were like trying something new; I was skeptical at first, but I'm so glad I didn't outright reject you and run away, and I'm glad we're friends." Phil paused, trying to collect his thoughts before moving on.

"Pj, I want to thank you for saving my life. If you hadn't have found me-" Phil stopped, trying to catch his breath, Dan's hold on him tightening in response to his struggle. "If you hadn't have found me, I would have bled out, or kept going, or done something  _stupid_ , or all three, and- I've never been more grateful for anything in my whole life, the fact that you stopped me, the fact that you took care of me, the fact that you dragged me out of the house and allowed me to meet Dan. You're a lot like taking medication. I always tried to fight you, and I was afraid that you would turn me into something I wouldn't recognize if I did what you said and took care of myself, but once I got a little taste of what being better was like, I came to appreciate what you had been trying to accomplish the whole time." Phil stopped again, nuzzling his face into Dan's chest before he continued, lowering his voice just enough to still be heard by everyone in the room, but to be joined by the rain.

"And, finally, Dan. I would like to thank you for changing my life. Before I met you, I was fairly convinced that I would never change or get better, and was even looking  _forward_ to spending the rest of my life as an unhappy man with zero goals, zero expectations, too much baggage and a couple of friends. I don't think I would've ever learned or even attempted to understand what it's like to be happy, to be full of emotions on a regular basis and not just empty, to have things that make the bad things better, without you, and that would have killed me far sooner than anything else. You dropped from heaven into open palms, because you're perfect and necessary to me for so many reasons, and I knew that I needed someone like you but didn't believe I'd ever find one, until you were in my arms. And, hopefully, here to stay."

Phil didn't realize he was about to cry until he was done talking and he could focus on his breathing again, could focus on his breath mixing with Dan's.

"Dammit, Phil," Pj croaked, his voice stiff from misuse. "Why do you always have to one-up everyone?" Phil laughed, letting his tears fall as the rain continued to spatter the ground.

The rain was the only thing that spoke after that. The game had unofficially ended and everyone was content to just lay in good company, letting their thoughts run wild and their fingers trace whatever skin was closest.

* * *

Phil was having a battle with himself, and he was losing. It was still raining, several hours later, and everyone else was asleep in their beds, but Phil was sitting on the balcony, drenched and shivering from the rain, falling along with it.

Phil was in love with Dan. He resisted the urge to tell Dan earlier, during the game, because it didn't feel right, but it was harder to hide it from himself.

Phil knew that he was in love with Dan, and Phil knew that this was extremely uncharted territory for him, which meant that he was scared, and he was fighting it with everything he had. The rain wasn't nearly as loud or cold as the thoughts swirling in his head, reminding him of every negative aspect of himself, and love, and a relationship in general.

Phil could wish that his friendship with Dan would never change, never be altered, but he would miss the simple things taking place, the falling in love and the the way it felt and the way he wanted to feel.

Phil wanted to be in love, but he wanted it to be familiar to him, and it wasn't yet.

Wishing for things had never done Phil any good, and he didn't know how long he had with Dan to begin with. Someone like him could be gone before Phil could even blink, before Phil had time to think about what would be left of him if he was.

So, fighting against falling in love was pointless.

And once Phil stopped fighting it, he couldn't breathe.

But Dan always knew how to save him, and knew when he needed saving, and swept Phil away with his voice, just like he always did.

"Whatcha doin', Phil?" Dan asked, the sound of his voice immediately calming Phil down, bringing him back to earth.

"Trying to wash away the dirt," Phil answered, not turning around to look at him.

"Is it working?"

"No."

"Are you sure that you need to?" Phil didn't answer right away, still marveling at the effect Dan had on him, the way he always knew what to ask and what to question.

"Not sure, no. Making an assumption, really," Phil elaborated. And then Dan was sitting in front of Phil and Phil was climbing into his arms, hiding his face in his shoulder, clutching his shirt in his fists, pressing his body as close as he could get it.

"Let's play a game," Dan suggested, cradling Phil to his chest.

"What game?" Phil asked, resting his forehead on Dan's shoulder.

"Truth or Double Truth, just like earlier."

"Okay."

"I'll go first," Dan said. "Truth or double truth?"

"Truth,"

"Tell me something that I don't know."

"I'll have to think," Phil mumbled. "Give me a sec."

"Take your time." Dan reassured him. Phil knew what he  _wanted_ to tell Dan, but he was stuck trying to decide if it was a good idea or not. His thought process, however, was completely destroyed when Dan kissed away a raindrop that was rolling down his neck, his lips gentle as they graced his skin. Suddenly, Phil remembered that Dan was sitting out here in the rain with him, even though Phil had never asked him to, even though he didn't have to. And Phil could feel where his lips had been, burning his skin, even though they were long gone.

His decision was made.

Dan pressed another kiss to Phil's neck as he waited, and Phil fought to control his breathing, as Dan had yet to stop peppering kisses across the side of Phil's neck and Phil was having trouble concentrating on what he wanted to say.

"About five minutes ago," Phil said, pausing as Dan hummed in response. "I fell in love with you." Dan froze, his lips hovering above Phil's damp skin, and his breath warming it. Phil could feel a ghost of a smile against his neck, and it melted his frozen thoughts.

"What a coincidence," Dan commented before pressing on, trailing the tip of his nose along Phil's skin as he kissed his way up to his jaw and nipped at his ear. "Because, about three minutes ago, I did the same thing." Dan's hands found their way under Phil's shirt as his breathing all but stopped, his heart pounding through his wet t-shirt.

"How funny," Phil breathed, picking up his head. He looked Dan in the eyes and slowly closed them, as Dan leaned forward and captured his lips, kissing away whatever breath Phil had left and filling his lungs with love, instead.

Dan kissed Phil as the rain poured, and Dan kissed Phil until Phil felt like he was burning inside, and Dan kissed Phil until Phil couldn't identify the difference between the two of them, where one man ended and the other man began. Dan kissed Phil until he was sure that there was a God, and there was a Heaven, and he wasn't sure when he had gotten there, but he didn't really care, either. Dan kissed Phil until Phil didn't know who he was, or where he'd been, or where he was going, or if any of that even mattered. Dan kissed him until Phil was convinced that this was all he had ever known, all he ever needed, all he ever wanted, and more.

Dan kissed Phil until Phil forgot what being empty felt like, and Dan kissed him again as a refresher, and then Dan kissed him one more time, just for fun.

"You're magic," Phil panted, his hands tangled in Dan's hair, his breathing ragged. "Fucking, magic."

"I'm wild," Dan grinned, digging his nails into Phil's hips where they rested. "There's a difference."

_And I could hope that this would never change,_

_but I would miss the simple things taking place._

_And I could pray that you'd stay by my side,_

_but wild things go only where the wind decides._

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed !!


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